Shot
by Jesfrealo
Summary: Well, this one's hard to explain except to say it involves one of the seven getting shot and making a deal with a higher power. Now I know what you're thinking but be nice and give it a chance.


He could do nothing but stare down at his bloodied clothes

Shot

By: Jesfrealo

Authors' note: Okay, just give it a chance, be kind, and Review.

He could do nothing but stare down at his bloodied clothes. Shock and bewilderment were the only things he could think of. How had this happened? And why in hell had he taken the risk? He just couldn't understand it. Normally he never would have taken a risk like that. Why had he? It was such an unselfish thing to do-since when did I become unselfish-when did I start putting others before myself? 

He felt himself sinking to the floor as more and more blood gushed out of the bullet holes that were in his chest and stomach. He knew well that there was no one who would come to rescue him. He knew they wouldn't learn of his injuries in time, even if they did know he knew that they still wouldn't come save him. There was really no hope for him. They wouldn't come and he'd die alone on the cold, hard concrete. A rather fitting end, he thought. 

He listened to the pounding of his heart. The pounding was loud however it was steadily slowing. It was steadily growing weaker and less consistent. He offhandedly, and somewhat disorientedly thought it odd that he was hearing himself die. Everything was beginning to move more slowly. In fact, it felt like the whole world was in slow motion. Then suddenly he saw a single point of light in his vision. Smack dab in the middle of the warehouse ceillng. The point grew larger and more overwhelming until his sight was so enveloped in the light that it felt too bright for his eyes. Then darkness overcame him. However despite physical blackness his mind was still trapped, very awake and very alive. 

Despair set over him acutely. He had always, since joining the police force and FBI, faced the chance that he might die in the line. But he'd always hoped he wouldn't have to die alone. It was, perhaps, the only thing he truly feared any longer. Once, before Denver, before the ATF, before Chris Larabee, Vin Tanner, Buck Wilmington, Nathan Jackson, Josiah Sanchez, and JD Dunne, he had also feared trusting people and friendship. Those days, though, were long gone, replaced with happier times and full and real friendships. Or at least he had thought that was the way of things. He had learned too late though, that his fears of trusting others and of becoming friends weren't in vain. It hurt to think that they'd been playing him all that time, that they would do this to him. They might as well have lured him into the warehouse themselves and shot him. Perhaps, they had. Perhaps the mystery men were his friends. It would be a fitting way for a con to end, wouldn't it? 

Part of his mind wanted to scream at the other part. To call it a liar. To tell it that his friends wouldn't do that. That those men couldn't be expected to know where they were or what had happened. But the other part just screamed back. No one else but his so-called friends knew the things his, his,…murderers had known about him. No one but his so-called friends were aware of his current location. No one but his so-called friends could have known the weaknesses that those men had exploited to leave him for dead.

He left those thoughts behind. The panic of knowing death was certain had long since hit him but as his condition had weakened that panic had left him. It left him more introspective and thoughtful then his normal personality allowed. So, as he lay on the pavement listening to his own frighteningly slow and weak heart he thought about his life. He saw his experiences, it seemed as if his memory was unloading itself on his mind, as if it were playing back all it had seen over the years of his comparatively short life. He subconsiously thought that this must be what you always hear about, people's lives flashing before their eyes. But this wasn't flash it was more like a cross between a movie and a slide show. It started with memories of childhood Ezra had forgotten he had. It took him through his elementary school days. It took him back to when his mother was just teaching him how to play a good hand of poker. It took him back to junior high and to his first kiss, and to high school and his graduation, which his mother had missed. It took him through college. It took him through his time as a street cop in Atlanta and as a FBI agent in the same city. It took him up through the scandel and his departure or perhaps rescue from the FBI and into the ATF. It took him through his first bust and first fishing trip with the group that would become the magnificent seven. He saw nearly everyday of the past two years he'd spent with his team. The busts, the injuries, the jokes, and the pranks, and the holidays that had once been a lonley and desolate time for them all had become a time that they could enjoy in eachother's company. Over the relatively short time they'd worked as a team they had pumped vigor, happyness, humor, and excitement into seven lives that had been seriously lacking. As he watched his own personal slide show of his life, a realization settled over both sides of his mind. And the side that trusted his friends won. Watching the years pass before him he knew with sudden and joyous certainty that these men would not desert him and they certainly wouldn't betray him. 

An unknown feeling of calm settled over him, as a point of light made itself known in vision that he thought he'd lost. However, it wasn't like the first time he'd seen light. That light had brought pain and was too bright. This settled calmly over him and was dimmed in a lovely, wonderful translucent blue that he allowed himself to be consumed with. Once more his mind wandered in it's crevice. He wondered about what wold become of him when death finally overcame him. Surely the time would come soon. Surely it wouldn't be long. He couldn't help but feel some fear at such a thought. He had never before thought much, or had tried to avoid thinking of what afterlife would bring for him. He'd tried to avoid it with everyone he'd ever lost. To simply not think about it and block out the pain was easier then facing that uncertainty of what would come after ones death. You could never be absolutely sure, so why bother thinking about it? But now that decision felt awfully foolish. Now with death so eminent, he went back to a time when he'd believed in something beyind the realm which we know. He remembered his grandmother, his father's mother, whom he'd adored. She was a wonderful woman who had made a short time in his life a complete joy, and although he remembered her very little she had given him the only dose of a worthwhile God he'd ever known. Though he knew it was the same God others had tried to cram down his throat at this point he had to believe that his nana's God existed and if the God did exist he had to hope that it listened to worthless grown men as much as it did his wonderful nana.

So at that moment he did something he hadn't done since the summers he'd spent with his nana. He prayed. "God, I think that you're probably there, somewhere. And I know it's probably unlikely that you'd listen to me, but my nana once told me you listen to everyone. She told me about a paradise free from pain where good people get to go when they die. Well, I know I haven't been a great person, and I know that I probably don't deserve to spend eternity with the likes of my nana, but I'd like to maybe make amends with you. Now, I don't really know how to do that but I guess I'll just say I'm sorry, and you don't have to let me into heaven you just have to give me life long enough for my friends to come save me. If you can do that then I promise I'll look into you a little bit more. Well, that's all, oh yeah, I'm Ezra Standsih, the last time I talked to you I was six, do you remember me? Probably not. Anyway, I'll go now and leave you to your decision about me. Be kind,…please." 

"Oh, yeah, um, Amen."

As soon as the thoughts and words escaped his mind he felt light gripping at his eyes and he heard the sounds of people. Of people he knew. 

"Ez, come on Ez, wake up! Wake up now!" He heard Chris' stern voice command him. With that final shove into the world of consciousness his eyes popped open and an immense pain settled over him however as he heard sirens coming and as he heard Chris' voice telling him to hold on, that help was on it's way. He briefly closed his eyes and whispered, "Thank you, I'll hold up my end of the bargain too."

~*~

****

Three weeks later

Ezra had undergone surgery to repair damage to his liver, to remove his irripairable spleen and to fix damaged lungs. The doctors had been shocked at how quickly he'd recovered and as it was now he was off the ventalator and though weak, well on the road to recovery. 

One of the team always stayed with him while the others worked and most importantly looked for those who had done this to Ezra. They had doscovered that their files had been hacked into and Ezra's personal file had been stolen. They still weren't sure who had a personal vendetta against the undercover man, the list was a mile long but they'd find the scum and in the meantime, they'd protect their gambler, who seemed to have had something odd happen to him. Despite his miraculous recovery he seemed to have more faith in them and seemed to have a true appreciation of their friendship. 

On this particular day, at 7:30 Josiah entered to stay with Ezra for the day. Ezra took a breath, he had made a deal with God and the way he say it the Big Guy in the sky had kept up his end of the bargain and now it was time for him, Ezra Standish, to do the same with his.

"Mr. Sanchez?"

"Yeah, Ez," Josiah returned expectng the gambler to ask to be waited on or something along those lines.

"Would you care to tell me about God?"

"Excuse me?" Josiah asked, clearly shocked and overwhelmed by the wide open subject that was.

"Well, I made a little deal and well I've got to follow through. You see, when I was in that warehouse…"

THE END 


End file.
